30 Days in Italy
by crissc0lfer
Summary: Chris is traveling around the world trying to find love, and he lands in Italy, where he meets Darren, an Italian boy. CrissColfer AU.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is seriously so AU it hurts. Darren's Italian, okay. I don't know how long this is gonna be, but I know that there's going to be smut because, well, Darren is hot and Italian profanity is just wonderful. Nothing else, other than I like feedback.**

**I don't own Darren or Chris or _Italy, _for that matter. I wish I did.**

* * *

><p>As soon as Chris graduated, he ran away from Clovis. Not just away from Clovis, but away from the United States. Chris told himself time and time again that love wasn't real. His best friend, Lea, told him that he's <em>got <em>to believe in love for it to even _be _real. So for the past 6 months, Chris had been traveling around the world to experience new things, new settings, new landscapes, new people - and that was a thing for Chris. He went around to each country and found one boy to fall in love with.

The first boy was named Matt, a boy from Canada. Chris thought he loved him, but really, it was just lust. The second boy was named Jake, from Greenland. He had spiked hair and the most gorgeous blue eyes. Again, lust. Next was Iceland, a pale boy named Caleb was sure to be the one for him, but no. Chris stayed away from him because he was just a bit too close. The last 6 were complete creeps and made Chris shudder at the thought of them.

After 9 countries of trying to find the one, he landed in a place in Italy. Italy was _beautiful_, - well from the window in the airport. He had been staring around for the past 30 minutes, waiting for his called cab, just listening to the Italian language. Everything about this country was gorgeous, but Chris only had one month to get what he wanted before he left for France. Chris turns from the large window, looking around for his ride, hoisting his luggage as he wedges through the crowd, trying not to get swallowed by natives. "Excuse me, sorry," he mutters, body getting shoved into one another. He brushes through the group of people until he finally reaches the door, seeing a taxi outside. Chris runs out, briefly taking in the fresh air before getting in and telling the driver where his hotel was. All he did was nod and wave his hand before driving off. This place was new to Chris, something like he'd never seen before. Way off from Clovis and Iceland and Canada. The _atmosphere _was different. And as soon as the taxi stopped, Chris was in a hurry to get out, to explore this new country.

There was a sweet, smooth voice coming from somewhere around along with strumming acoustic guitar strings. He pulls his luggage from behind him, following the voice that lead to the entrance of his hotel. Chris looks up to see a boy on the step of the building with curly locks tangled on his head. His golden-green eyes shined, bright and happy and _beautiful _through his black rimmed glasses, and his smile was sweet as he sang. But as soon as the boy saw Chris he came to a stop, his eyes wandering up and down his body before saying, "_Se sei americano?_"

Chris gasps at his accent. He had been to plenty of places with accents but this one.. This one he could get addicted to. "Sorry, um. I'm not from here.. I don't understand, do you.. _Do you speak English_?" Chris asks slowly a little too loud and the boy furrows his eyebrows. "_Sì_, I speak, ahh.. Bunch of English," the boy says, standing up and setting his guitar on the edge of the step. He brushes his hands on his jeans and holds one out. "_Mi chiamo _Darren, uh.. My name." he says in that _wonderful_, thick accent. Chris takes his rough, callused hand and can barely get out the word, "_I'm Chris_," before Darren presses a kiss on the top of it. _Were Italians always this affectionate when they meet someone?_

Chris' stomach flutters at the touch of his lips on his skin and Darren looks up at him through the tops of his glasses, a charming smile playing on his lips. Chris bites his lip when Darren leans up and looks at the large hotel, "Is this your staying place? Where you will sleep?" Darren asks, pointing through the doors where it was formally decorated. Chris nods and Darren grabs for his guitar, pulling the strap over his neck. "I come here to perform a lot, I will see you then? Maybe I can show you around in tomorrow? You'd like that?" Darren questions, sensing how Chris was speechless. He smirks, jumping off the steps and waving at Chris. "I'll see you in daylight then," he yells back at him, and Chris clutches the handle of his suitcase, his insides screaming. This could be a good thing, but then again, all of the boys before Darren had treated him the same. He might just turn out to be the same as them all.

_Day 1 in Italy._

Chris woke up to the sound of cars and a familiar tune playing from outside his window. He stretches in the soft sheets, just listening to the words that climbed from the ground to Chris' room.

"_Tu vuò fa l' americano, mmericano, mmericano, siente a me, chi t' ho fa fa? Tu vuoi vivere alla moda, ma se bevi whisky and soda, po' te sente 'e disturbà.._"

Soon enough he was peeking out the window, leaning on the edge and staring down at Darren. He wore a gray cardigan and a dark pair of jeans, and he wasn't wearing his glasses today, but he was still the most handsome man he'd ever seen. "Darren!" Chris calls down at him, and the curly headed boy looks up, a grin appearing on his face when he sees Chris. "_Ciao, buongiorno._Good morning, American! Are you ready for your tour of Italy?" Darren asks, and Chris laughs. "Just give me a few minutes and I'll be down," he says before closing his window.

After showering and rushing to throw on something presentable, Chris was pushing the door open to meet Darren. His guitar was gone now, making Chris' eyebrows fly up in confusion. "Where's your guitar?" he asks, and Darren shrugs. "It's inside at the front desk."

"They just _took_ it from you?" Chris gapes in disbelief, almost walking back inside to protest and get the instrument back. But Darren grabs his hand while he was walking to the door, laughing - that laugh that was so cute. "No, no. Do you really think they're gonna take the owner's son's best friend? Come on now, _spicciare_." Darren rests his hand on the small of his back, sending a lick of thrill up Chris' spine through the shock of Darren's words. "Wait, your dad owns that hotel? But it's so fancy and you're so.. Casual," Chris didn't want to insult him, but it was true. Darren shakes his head, leading Chris down the streets of Rome. "It's nothing, really. Now let's go eat breakfast."

—

Darren holds the door open for Chris, his wallet in his hand. Chris thanks him quietly and looks around, the small cafe didn't look like the one's in America, though Chris learned not to expect anything the same as where he came from. But this place had no eggs nor bacon, just tons of bread, yogurt, and coffee. It smelled _delicious_ though. "Croissant? Are you familiar with the term?" Darren asks, gently pulling him next to his hip in the line. Chris stares at him like he grew another head, resisting the urge to just _kiss _him because that was adorable. "Yes, Darren, I know what a _croissant _is," he smiles, and Darren nods. "Just making sure," he says before releasing his arm from around Chris' shoulders to order. Chris stands behind him, watching his mouth move as Italian words spilled out. He picked up some things like, coffee and pastry.

"_Grazie, grazie_." Darren hands Chris a croissant and a mug, sharing a brief smile with him before picking a small table by the window. Chris sits across from him, biting into his lip, gaze glued on Darren. This boy was special in a way, different from all the others. It wasn't just the way he looked, though that was pretty different. It was just _him_.

"How do you know English?" Chris blurts out, eyes widening before he takes a sip of the hot beverage. Darren shrugs, "I uh.. I went to America to be big, you know. Big star, actor and performer. My papà told me I have to know their language so I learned it, it took several years of practice, and then I went to Hollywood." Darren took another bite of the bread, staying silent. Chris wanted to ask what happened but he didn't, knowing that he only knew Darren for not even a day. Then Darren looked at him. "What are you doing here? In Italy, I mean?"

Chris didn't want to answer that. He wish he could lie and say he's here for family reasons or to take a vacation, but not when Darren was staring at him with those big, vulnerable eyes. He didn't want to sound like some cheap whore who got around with guys in every country, so he settled for a simple statement, hoping Darren would leave it at that. "_I want love_."

Darren laughs. "Darling, this isn't Paris. This is Italy. I'm afraid you got the wrong country," he says in a playful tone, and Chris grins. "I don't know about that.." he mutters, taking another long sip of his coffee.

—

The rest of the day went by too fast. Chris and Darren walked all around the city, and at one point Chris complained about his legs hurting and Darren carried him on his back until they found a boat. The boat ride was supposed to be a tour, but Darren and Chris stayed in the back, shamelessly flirting and throwing each other smirks and glances. And all during lunch they played footsie under the table which resulted in Darren tickling Chris' sides on the way out for running his foot up too far. Chris had gotten tons of pictures of them together, but his favorite was the one of them standing in front of the Trevi Fountain. Chris threw a coin in there and his only wish was to fall helplessly in love with someone who loved him back. Darren told him that he wished for pizza, but Chris was pretty sure he was lying. But later that night, Darren's "_wish_" came true anyway. The pizza in Italy was different than the way America made it. It was more thin and full of vagetables, which Chris didn't mind at all. It was late when Darren walked Chris up to his hotel room, - well, more like skipped.

"I had an amazing time, Darren. Thank you for um.. Taking me, around. It was really fun." Chris smiles, and Darren pecks his cheek quickly. "_Prego, bello._How long are you here?" Darren asks, taking his hands and lacing their fingers. "29 more days." Chris tells him, sighing afterwards. He had only knew Darren for a day and it already killed him that he was going to leave. He wanted to spend as much time as possible with him because his was heart already attached to this guy. "You.. You should come inside. We could talk, you know. Play 20 questions.. It's an American game, but I'll teach you." Chris whispers, his cheeks scarlet. Darren wets his lips absentmindedly, opening his mouth answer but was interrupted by a yell of Italian words.

Chris didn't understand a thing but watched Darren roll his eyes at the man, letting go of Chris' hands. "_Mi dispiace_, I wish I could stay but my papà needs me." Darren brushes a strand of Chris' hair out of his face before walking backwards away from him, "I will see you tomorrow, yeah?"

Chris nods and wiggles his fingers at him before walking into his hotel room, hiding his sadness until he closes the door. He groans, toeing off his shoes and throwing himself on the bed. It was a busy day and he was tired, but his mind was filled with Darren, Darren, _Darren_. God, he was already that clingy boy. This was going to be a messy 29 days.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N. I swear this is like Dear John. _Two weeks, two weeks to fall in love with you. _See, if there wasn't romance this would be boring. Therefore, you guys get romance. Sorry, sorry. :3 Oh, and, Darren never calls Chris, Chris. It's either American or bello, which is pronounced BAY-LOW, if you didn't guess already.. Oh, and that boy I added in there was for a reason so don't be like 'wow that was irrelevant' shh just wait. So, yeah OKAY goodbye. I like reviews.**

* * *

><p><em>Day 2 in Italy.<em>

Chris opens the door to a smiling Darren, who held a lily in his hand. "_Ciao, bello_," he says, handing Chris the flower. "It's the most beautiful thing we have in Italy, besides you, of course," Darren winks, and Chris blushes, putting the lily up to his nose to inhale its sweet scent. "Thank yo— _grazie,_" Chris grins, and Darren raises his eyebrows. "Impressive. You've been listening to me, yes?" he questions, and Chris nods. "_Si_, I want to be fluent in Italian."

"Ahh, that could take a while, _bello_,"

"Teach me," Chris pulls Darren inside and closes the door behind them. He quickly arranges the sheets on the bed before jumping on them, crossing his legs and waiting for Darren. Darren settles in front of him, placing his hands in his lap and sighing. "What do you want to learn?"

"I don't know.. Just tell me about yourself in Italian and I'll try to figure it out. I like to challenge myself." Chris smiles proudly, and Darren chuckles, "Okay, are you ready?"

Chris nods.

_"Ho 22. Ho intenzione di essere grande uno giorno in America.. Mi piace la neve e chitarre. E mi piacciono i ragazzi." _

Chris stares at him blankly expressionless, slightly turned on by the flow of Italian but he would never admit that. Instead he nods and says, "I am unashamed to say that I did _not_ understand a word you just said. You could insult me and I wouldn't know anything you'd say," Darren shakes with laughter, head falling forward. "_Sciocco Americano,_ I said, I'm 22. I'm going to be great one day in America.. I like the snow and guitars. And I like boys." he shrugs, and Chris smiles at the last part.

"I know you like boys. Straight men usually don't kiss other guys hands or cheeks nor do they give them flowers," he explains, and Darren was staring at him a bit too long after that. Chris' cheeks were heating up under his gaze so he looks away, and Darren smiles. "_Va bene, va bene._ Repeat after me, yes?"

Chris clears his throat and straightens up his back, waiting for Darren to give him the words. "_Voglio baciarti,_" Darren says it slowly and Chris repeats it, trying to say it perfectly like Darren did, which only made the boy double over in laughter. Chris hits his side, pouting. "That's not fair, you're Italian, let me try again,"

Darren takes a deep breath, "_Voglio baciarti_." he says once again. Chris tries it loud and obnoxiously, "Vol-yo ba-chart-ti. Voglio baciarti. _Voglio baciarti!_ I got it! Voglio baciarti!" he hugs Darren, who had a myschievous look on his face, his smile was sly but still bright. "You just said you wanted to kiss me, ahh.." Darren counts on his fingers, "4 times. Is that 4 kisses for me?"

"You tricked me! That's not fair." Chris tried to sound casual, but his face was burning. He considered it quickly, mind racing with pros and cons to kissing him. Darren was moving closer though, face coming near his. He wanted to lean into it, to _kiss_ Darren but he was a stranger. He holds up a hand, Darren's lips were already slightly parted inches from Chris'. "Stop," Chris sighs, knowing that now he would regret this but in the future it'd be worth it. Darren sits back, eyebrows coming together in confusion. "What's wrong, _bello_?"

Chris stares at him, wide eyed with nothing to say. "I.. Um, I haven't brushed my teeth yet. Isn't that gross? Yuck. Don't wanna kiss me," he mumbles, clearing his throat. "American, why are you so silly? This is Italy, full of garlic foods." Darren leans in again and Chris backs up, scrambling off his bed. "I should really go brush my teeth though." he sing-songs back at him, walking into the bathroom and shutting the door after him. He grabs his toothbrush and turns on the tap, glancing up at himself at the mirror before putting toothpaste on the bristles. He really did have to brush his teeth, so technically he wasn't locked in the bathroom for a lie. It's just that he just met Darren.

Were all Italians like this? He made a reminder in his head to Google that later.

Was it wrong to want to kiss a guy he just met? He's done it before but he was intoxicated, drunk off of alcohol and lust. Nothing was taken from it but Darren was _Darren_, and he made Chris feel tingly inside. It was his smile or eyes or accent or _something_ so charming about Darren that made Chris' stomach hurt with thrill and happiness, made his chest ache for longing because not _one_ boy from any other country made him do this. Maybe he should kiss Darren. Before Chris left for his first destination, Lea told him to make sure that if he felt something in a kiss, to make that boy stick around. Now he wasn't sure if she got that off of a movie or something, but it stuck with him all these months.

Chris rinses out his mouth and looks at himself one last time, quickly moving the hair off his forehead before opening the door, peaking out of it. "Darren?"

Darren sat on the sheets, his eyes looking up at the sound of his name. "I get it, you know. Is it because of my hair? I figured Americans don't like curly hair,"

Chris couldn't help but laugh and reach out his hand, running his fingers through the strands on his head. "No, no. I love your hair. It's soft and nice," he pauses, clearing his throat. "You know that game I told you about last night? Before that man came? 20 questions?" he asks, and Darren nods. "Can we play it? It's just I ask you a question and you answer it, and you do the same for me, okay? Any of kind of questions,"

Darren looked sort of dumbfounded for a moment, but he nods again.

-

Chris learned a lot about his Italian friend. He now knew that Darren could play multiple instruments and loved theater and singing. He learned that his dad owned a branch of hotels in Italy and he loved his dad. He brought up several stories of him when he was little, talking about how much he missed those times when his father had time for him. Now he only sees him when he needs help with something. Darren also loved his mom, who loved to cook and he mentioned how one day he'd cook for Chris, a traditional Italian dish. It made Chris laugh when Darren said that when he went to America the Italian food was disgusting and anything but Italian. At that, he scrunched up his face which was simply _adorable_. The 20 questions game just turned into telling each other anything and everything. On the other hand, Chris told Darren that he loved photography and writing, something that made Darren's eyebrows shoot up in interest. Chris showed him some pictures on his camera that he had taken over the months, the amounts of memory cards he got for each country, but told Darren to stay away from his writing if he ever wrote anything while in Italy. He also mentioned how much he wanted romance and love and scenery but of course, Darren fooled him into saying that.

When Darren had to leave, he quickly pecked Chris' cheek like the night before, vanishing from the hotel room with Chris' face a light shade of red and an anticipating stomach.

-  
><em>Day 3 in Italy.<em>

Chris kept waking up in the middle of his sleep and after a long night of tossing and turning, light gleamed into the room from the window. He groans, rolling over in the bed and staring at the wall. Chris clutches his fingers around the blankets, sinking into them and closing his eyes. He didn't think Darren would be there this early in the morning, so he thought he'd rest his eyes a little more..

"American!" Chris jumps at the voice and sighs, back straightening up and sliding out of bed. He scratches the back of his neck and opens the door, trying to ignore Darren's widened eyes. "Wow, ahh.. _Bello, sembri molto stanco._" Darren says, eyeing Chris' plaid pajama pants. Chris tilts his head. "I have no idea what you just said," he tells him, surprised at his own voice, hoarse and subtle. "I said you look very tired," he pauses, watching Chris nods, "but I must take you to the Spanish Steps, yes? Take lots of pictures there."

Chris whines, letting his head fall against Darren's chest. "I don't want to go to any kind of steps. Steps mean walking, walking means _tired_." he yawns as a pair of protective arms wrap around his body. "_Multa, multa_.. Piazza Navona then, fountains and resturaunts everywhere."

"_Darren_," Chris mutters into his shirt, eyelids half open.

"Americanos are there all the time, you might meet an _amico_- friend." Darren shrugs. Chris stays silent, considering it. He might need someone who can understand him fully. Sure, Darren knew English pretty well but he had learned that he didn't know anything about the US. He talked about Wal-Mart yesterday and the boy was so confused, comparing it to a farm or the local market. He could use a real American so he nods into Darren before stepping back, walking over his drawer. "Okay, but as long as you carry me."

—

Chris wasn't joking about the carrying. Darren gave him a carried him on his back, all the way to Piazza Navona. It was full of people, but this time, Chris could hear English words being spoken instead of Italian. There was a large fountain filled with clear water, statues posing around it. Darren sets Chris down, catching him by his waist when he stumbles. Chris smiles at the scenery, fingers clutching the camera hanging around his neck as Darren links his arms around his hips loosely from behind. "_Fontana dei Quattro Fiumi. Il mio preferito_." Darren whispers, lips near his ear and the roll in his tongue dominant. Chris shivers, biting his bottom lip as Darren goes on, "_Bello,_ just like you."

Chris looks at him. "You call me that a lot. What does it mean?"

"Beautiful. It means beautiful," Darren tells him, lips turned up. Chris' face flushes. "_Grazie_," he says, and Darren raises his eyebrows up at him and lets go of his waist. "Do you want a drink? A water? Cappuccino? There is a cafe right over there.." Darren pointing to a building connected to others. Chris tells him that a water was fine and Darren nods and was off to the nearby cafe.

Chris wanders around while waiting for Darren to get back, walking fully around the fountain. He turns on his camera and holds it up, biting down on his lower lip, his finger on the button—

"Ow, get off!" Chris yells at the boy above him, his body pressed into the ground. The boy hesitates, hair falling over his face before standing up and holding out his hand. "I'm sorry, I was— and- it's really crowded and, I didn't—"

"I don't care," Chris rolls his eyes, ignoring his offered hand and pushing himself off the ground, brushing off his hands on his jeans. The boy looks at him with his eyebrows furrowed, gaze checking out Chris' lengthy body. Chris scoffs and bends down, picking up his camera and shoving it back in his back pocket. "You fucked up my shot. It had the perfect focus and zoom and you ruined it,"

Chris didn't mean to be rude. Actually, he didn't even know what he was saying. He hadn't talked to an actual American person in such a long time - minus casual flight attendants who asked him if he wanted pretzels and a water. Chris eyes this boy. He was tanned, hair dusting his forehead. He had brown eyes, dark eyelashes falling into the hallows under his eyes every time he blinked. He was attractive, but nothing more than a baby face Chris was too used to. He saw boys like this in Clovis, too hot for anyone but Abercrombie girl models. He got caught in his own thoughts to even notice that the boy was rambling apologies. "Come on, I said I was sorry. Do I need to buy your forgiveness? A souvenir? A drink?" he says smoothly, Chris opening his mouth to answer before he feels an arm surrounding his hips possessively.

"He's got a drink." Darren smiles brightly, handing Chris the bottle of water. The boy looks at Darren, crossing his arms. "That's not exactly the drink I was thinking about.." he winks, and Chris rolls his eyes. "Oh, look, it's my Italian. He could be part of the Mafia." Chris pauses and looks at Darren, wide eyed, "You're not part of the Mafia, are you? Did the Mafia even start in Italy? Their accents are similar to yours so I figured.." Chris trails off, furrowing his eyebrows together, thinking to himself.

"_Dio mio, sei lento,_" Darren drags out the words, emphasizing them as he tugs Chris by his waist, walking away from the stranger. He checks behind him to see if there were any tourists before looking at Chris. "Why are Americans so rude? He wanted to eat you alive, I know that look," Darren whispers. Chris smiles to himself and ignores him, unwrapping his arm from around his waist and running to a statue. "Will you take a picture of me in front of this?" he asks Darren, holding out his camera and handing it to him. He points to the top button. "This is what you press down on, okay?"

Darren mumbles an okay and watches Chris run to the gray statute. He looks at him through the screen on the camera. He grins at the way Chris smiles, his lips turned up to where his dimples were expressed. Chris was absolutely beautiful to him and he wanted more of this boy. He's met a lot of Americans before, bundles of gay guys before this one but Chris just stood out to him. He presses down on the button and gives Chris a thumbs up, chuckling when he switches his pose. He puts his hands on his hips, pursing his lips. He clicks it again, and Chris runs to him, taking the camera.

Darren stares at him, his gaze searching his features. His perfect pale skin, his glazs eyes, and kissable mouth. Not to mention the body he had, lean and tall all the way to his untouchable chestnut colored hair. "Darren!" Chris bursts out in giggles, interrupting Darren from his thoughts. He hums and Chris shows him the picture. "Your finger was in the way!" he bites his lip at Darren's worried-filled face. "I'm sorry, how do you delete it?"

Chris shakes his head, turning off his camera and putting the strap around his neck. "No. I want to keep it. For memories,"

"Did God drop a bottle of perfection in the mix while he was making you?" Darren asks him, moving his hand to capture Chris', their fingers intertwining together. Chris glances down at their hands before Darren talks again. "I want to take you somewhere. It's a secret place though, so you can't tell a soul,"

Chris says a quick promise and Darren lets go of his hand, but he hid the disappointment as Darren called a cab. He sighs in relief when it came to a stop near them, climbing in the back seat. Darren tells the driver, "_Il solito_," as he leans back, putting an arm around Chris' shoulders. He calls the same driver every time he needs one because this guy knew exactly where he wanted to go. Chris lays his head against him, their eyes meeting when he does. Darren watches him, a lazy smile on Chris' lips and his eyes drooping half-way as the motion settles in the taxi.

He felt guilty for bringing Chris out when he was tired, but this was the perfect place to sleep, to dream, to think, to do _anything_. But he felt even worse when he had to wake him up when the car stopped. Chris rubs at his eyes and sits up, wiping his mouth _just in case_. The two of them get out, and Chris stared. The ground below them was a dirt road but everything else around the it was so free and green and yellow and _peaceful._ Darren takes his hand again and leads him down into his favorite part of the area, waiting for Chris to tell him to stop. But he didn't, he went with him willingly. The grass came to their ankles and was filled with colors and flowers, and the sun seemed calmer than in the city.

Darren stops at a decent spot, plopping on the grass, laying down, and patting the spot next to him. Chris settles next to him on his side, holding himself up on his elbow. "What is this place?" he asks, his voice quiet. If he talked normally he was afraid he'd disturb something, anything that floated around in this field. Darren simply smiles. "If you come here, you must clear your mind of all your doings. Forget everything bad and replace with good, happy thoughts, yes?"

Chris had no negative thoughts right now. All he wanted to do is lay here forever, next to Darren. "Do you believe in love?" he questions. Darren turns to look at him and scoffs. "Of course I do, why wouldn't I? Love may be hard to find but it's still out there," he shrugs.

"Do you ever think that if you search for a long time then you finally find someone, you'll be so vulnerable to know what's even happening? Like, you know, falling in too deep way too fast."

"That might happen, but, you never know until you find the one until you have the signs." Chris makes a confused expression. "No one has told you?_ Dio Mio_, you know you're in love with someone when.. When you want to be with them all the time. And you get distracted because they're beautiful. And your heart makes racing noises in your chest. And your knees go weak and your hands get clammy around them. You just feel something, _bello_, when you're in love,"

They were silent for much too long after that, waiting patiently for someone to say something but nothing came. Instead they lay under the developing stars and moonlight hidden behind the clouds. "I should take you back." Darren finally says, and Chris jumps out of his thoughts before he stands, wiping off his jeans and hands. "Definitely," He shivers, and Darren catches it, stripping off his cardigan and handing it to Chris. Chris tries to protest, to say that he needed it more than he did or that a cardigan couldn't possibly keep him warm but he ends up sliding his arms through it.

Chris curls up next to Darren in the cab, the scent of him filling his nose. Rome was so pretty at night, he noticed, the lights were on and bright. He was tempted to grab his camera on the seat next to him and take photos, but he was too comfortable in Darren's arms to ever do that. So he stays in the position, watching the lights go by until he sees a familiar building. "Are you going to walk me to my room?" Chris mumbles, and Darren shakes his head. "I have to get home, _bello_, but I'll take you up the steps."

Chris and Darren escape from the taxi and Darren guides him up the decorated entrance of the hotel. It wasn't long until Chris' arms were around his neck, pulling him into a lasting hug.

Chris pulls away just enough to press his lips into Darren's, kissing him softly. Darren's embrace on his waist become tighter, his eyes fluttering closed as he leans into him. It was nothing more than a chaste kiss, innocent and passionate. Chris already knew that he liked Darren, so why not kiss him? _You just feel something, bello, when you're in love. _The words repeat in his mind until he parts their lips, fingertips dragging down his t-shirt. "Now I give you permission to leave," he whispers, and Darren hums, smiling the slightest bit. "_Buona notte_, Chris,"

"Goodnight," he says, pushing through the doors and to the elevators, not looking back one time. He knew Darren would still be there. He grins at the thought of a struck Darren in the front of a hotel, trying to find his way back to Earth. Chris happily sings all the way to his room, opening the door and kicking off his shoes. He jumps on the bed, cheek pressed into the pillow and fingers curled around Darren's cardigan.


	3. Chapter 3

**Sometimes I cry in disappointment because I can't write smut this early in a story. I already have it done, just waiting there patiently in a file. Damn you, writing. Damn you. Sigh, irrelevant chapter is irrelevant.**

* * *

><p><em>Day 4 in Italy.<em>

The next morning, Chris woke up on his own and not by the usual loud knocking on his door. He took an extra long shower, just standing under the warm water and reminiscing on last night's event. He _kissed_ Darren. And Darren _kissed him back_. It was nothing but an innocent kiss, but Chris couldn't help but remember how soft Darren's lips were, or the fact that he was being so gentle. He blushes, absentmindedly reaching up to trace his lips. Yeah, he definitely was going to do that more.

He didn't spend much time picking up his outfit, just jeans and a v-neck. Of course, right as he was opening the door, Darren brushes past him, tugging him right back in the room. He laughs, but that immediately faded when Darren pulls him in for a kiss. He smiles against his lips, a content sigh escaping his lips as he parts away from him. Darren rushes to unwrap his arms from around his waist, stepping back. "I apologize, that was sudden but I couldn't stop thinking about you.. _Ti penso sempre_," he says the last part shyly. "What's that mean?" Chris asks, taking his hands and backing through the open doorway.

"I always think of you," Darren tells him. Chris chews on his lip and turns, "I'll beat you to the elevator," he says, but he's already half way down the hall. Darren gapes for a moment before he's quick on his feet, running after Chris. "That was not fair, American!"

Chris hits the elevator button at least a dozen times before it dings, the doors sliding opening with a smooth movement. He hurries inside and presses the lobby button, waving at Darren, who was so close to the elevator. Darren squeezes through the doors before they close, breathless. Chris doesn't hold back a grin when Darren backs him up in the corner, hands settling on the bars by his hips. "I win," he whispers, and Darren hums. "We'll see who wins, _bello_," he mutters, his breath hot on Chris' lips.

The elevator opens, and a man cleared his throat, getting both Chris and Darren's attention. Chris gasps and covers his face. He didn't need more homophobic people in his life.

"Papa," Darren breathes out, and the man nods his head towards Chris, gesturing to him. Chris peeks through his fingers as Darren drags him out of the elevator, muttering something to his father. He hears his name somewhere in the Italian slurs. He just stays back as Darren talks to his father, crossing his arms and waiting with frustration because _he didn't know what they were saying_. But by Darren's expression, he was an excited, anxious puppy and his dad was polite about it.

Finally, the man stands in front of Chris, holding out his hand. "Bill," he says in a thick Italian accent similar to Darren's. He nods and shakes his hand, "I'm Chris," he introduces, swallowing harshly. Darren bites back his smile, watching the two of them. This is exactly what he wanted, - minus the elevator part. He wasn't exactly thrilled about that, more like embarrassed.

Chris turns to Darren. "Does he speak..?"

"You think I can run a branch of hotels and not speak English, son?" Bill says, and Chris stammers over his words. "I.. I uh, I'm sorry, I- Darren just speaks- I don't know-"

"Settle down, I was only joking." he chuckles, a dark noise rising from his throat. "I must go. I was only at the elevator because I got a call of two boys making shenanigans in the hall on the 5th floor. Now that I see that it was my own son and his American friend, I have to get back to my real work. Goodbye, Chris." he looks at Darren and says something in Italian, a breath of relief leaving those precious, amazing lips, Chris thinks. Once his dad disappears, Darren links an arm around his waist, hurrying to the door of the hotel. "He's thinks we're crazy, huh?" Chris asks him as he walks outside, and Darren laughs, pressing a kiss to his temple. "No, he's used to that."

Chris' eyes widen, stepping out of Darren's arm. "Used to what? You being with boys?" He furrows his eyebrows together. Darren gives him a small smile, tilting his head. "No. He's used to me running around the hotel. You've got to get that gorgeous little head of yours out of a knot," he says, tapping the tip of Chris' nose. Chris slumps, suddenly feeling stupid and jealous and _over-protective_. He frowns and sighs, mumbling an apology. Darren just laughs and takes his hand, lifting it to his lips and kissing his fingertips. "It's okay, _bello_, you didn't know. It's alright to feel like that, you know,"

Chris silently nods, waiting a moment before speaking again. "What are we doing today?"

Darren laces their fingers, pulling him to the curb and waving a hand for a taxi. "We're going to my home."

* * *

><p>Darren's house was surprisingly big. No, scratch that, huge. He knew he loved his dad, but he didn't think he'd be this spoiled. It was all brick with a wrap around porch, and it seemed to have dozens of windows. Chris just stared until Darren patted his back, saying something in Italian that Chris didn't care enough to break down. Instead he just got out of the cab and followed Darren to the doorsteps, taking in the atmosphere of the whole surrounding. This was where Darren lived.<p>

Darren opened the door and smiled politely, gesturing him to go inside with a quick flip of his hand. Chris takes a deep breath and walks in, hoping the place wasn't as fragile as it looked. He was very clumsy and automatically stepped away from any objects setting on a table near the door or in the entrance. The floor was shining, a cream colored marbled that stretched throughout the rooms. The ceilings were high and each doorway was arched and open, leading into separate areas. It was elegantly decorated, something Chris doubted Darren did himself. It didn't exactly feel like the house Darren would prefer, but it was still extravagant. "_Si guarda carina quando sei scioccato_," Darren says, an amused smirk settling on his face. Chris hums, half-mindedly wandering towards the other rooms.

Chris was always told that the kitchen was Italy's most beloved room to be in, and now he believed it. The aroma of it just smelled of food even when nothing was cooking, and it was large and full of open space to run around. He couldn't help but smile at the thought of Darren rushing to prepare a dinner, something completely simple but obviously worth it.

He turns to Darren, brows quirking up when he sees him reaching up in the cupboard for two wine glasses. "I figured that since you're in Italy, you're going to have to drink the wine somehow. Win with food is just.. A way of life, you see," he explains and sets the glasses on the counter, opening another cabinet. Chris looks inside and sees the various bottles of wine in it, the racks filled from top to bottom. He wasn't ever a big fan of wine. He'd figured that out at his graduation party -_ not the one with his parents, of course_ - where everyone and anyone had an alcoholic beverage. He was content with a martini or fruit drink. Wine wasn't that special, however. It was bitter to him, a sour, tangy taste that didn't exactly appeal to his taste buds. But what would be the harm in trying some with Darren?

Half of the wines were opened, others not even touched, coated with a thin layer of dust as they lay in their place. Chris read the words _Barolo_ on the wine bottle when Darren pulled it out, using a wine opener to pop pull out the cork. Darren seemed to be skilled at opening wine bottles, Chris notices, quick and steady with the whole process. He would've broken the bottle and the opener at least _twice_ before he'd gotten that thing open- and he'd have to lick it off the floor. The silence ended when he poured the dark liquid in the two curved glasses. "Barolo is the best of the best." Darren says, handing Chris one. "Unless you're used to wine, I'll warn you. It's strong," He leans his back against the counter and takes a sip. He didn't look affected at all, so Chris thought he'd give it a try. He brought the glass up to his lips and tips it up, a sweet, sharp taste filling his mouth. He scrunches up his face as he swallows, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth to get the taste to settle in.

Darren pressed his lips in a tight line to keep from laughing at the boy, turning his head to the side and squeezing his eyes shut. This was going to be a fun night.

* * *

><p>After about the seventh test, Chris was finally falling into the kick of wine. Everything was a bit fuzzy to him and the pit of his stomach was on bubbly. They were sitting on the couch now, different bottles scattered on the floor. He was laughing a bit too much and was way too close to Darren, his face nuzzled in his neck while a hand ran up and down his thigh, his other one holding a glass. Darren felt hesitant about this because he refused to take advantage of the situation. He hadn't had as much as Chris, just sips here and there because he already knew these. He didn't know what to expect from Chris, didn't even know he'd get woozy this fast.<p>

Then again, he was younger and inexperienced. The legal drinking age in America was stupid, in his opinion.

Chris' breath was warm and teasing, and he was _right there._ It was welcoming and all Darren had to do was turn his head to kiss him, but he didn't. He wanted to, but he didn't. "_Bello_, you should really get back to the hotel and sleep," he tells him, and Chris shakes his head, downing the rest of the dark beverage and reaching for more. But Darren pulls him back. "No, no, no, no," he chants, laughing a bit. Chris looks at him with big eyes and a pout. "Please,"

His fingertips crawl up Darren's jeans as he leans in, lips close to his ear repeating, "_please_" in a low whisper below trailing his tongue along the shell. Darren shudders, gripping his hips and settling him back on the cushion. "We're taking you back, up you go, come on," he urges, standing up and picking Chris up in his arms. "Can I stay here?_ In your bed_?"

Darren sighs and closes his eyes, contemplating that idea. He would either have to deal with a very stubborn drunk or a content drunk. With a groan, he walks towards the staircase. Chris hums, pressing several kisses to the side of his neck. Darren kicks open the door of his bedroom, stumbling to his bed and laying Chris down, tugging the covers up to his shoulders. Chris reaches out to him, opening and closing his hands like a child begging for his mother. "_Vengo_, _vengo_,"

Chris kicks his feet and whines, grabbing his hands and pulling him on top of him. Darren grunts and rolls next to him, letting him curl up next to him. "You smell nice," Chris giggles, breathing in Darren's scent, tangling their limbs together. Chris leans up for a kiss, puckering his lips but Darren declines, only giving him a quick peck. "_Andare a dormire_,"

* * *

><p><em>Day 5 in Italy.<em>

Chris had no idea how he got back in his hotel bed. Last thing he remembered he was Darren's house, and his head hurt and so did his chest. There was an uncomfortable scratch on his legs because of his jeans and his eyes drooped half open. He falls back, closing his eyes and anxiously waiting for Darren to barge in. It seemed like forever had gone by while he felt time pass by, occasionally yawning. But he never showed.

Chris drags himself out of the tangled sheets, rubbing his forehead and slipping on his shoes and hoodie lazily. He had no idea what Darren could be, but maybe a cup of tea could help out his headache. Slowly he made his way to the lobby, walking towards the exit but a woman stops him, holding a hand in the middle of his chest. There was another woman next to her, tall and blonde with a dictionary in her hand. "Uhh.. Chris Colfer? Darren's ah.. American friend?" Chris nods, sort of nervous because this lady looked like Darren, only shorter with more slanted eyes. She says something to the other girl in Italian and she nods before looking at Chris, "She says that Darren left something for you at the front desk and that he's terribly sorry for not coming to your room this morning,"

"Ask her if she's his mom." Chris eyes the shorter woman. The girl whispers something Italian and she nods. He smiles at her, saying a quiet_ thank you_ before they leave. Chris walks to the front desk, leaning his body over it and waiting for a man to show up. "How can I help you?" he asks. "I um.. Darren left something for me? I'm Chris.. Name, _Chris_."

"Oh!" The man reaches in a drawer and hands Chris an envelope. It was yellow and thick with Darren's scribbles on the top of it. Chris smiles politely, turning away to read the writing, laughing quietly at the words. Darren could speak English but he sure couldn't spell any of it.

_"Buon giorno, bello. I am sorry for my absense, so I left some euros for you to spend and go around Rome. I will see you tonight, yes?"_

Euros was money, Chris knew that much. He already had euros so why would Darren give him more? It wasn't much, but it was enough to get him food. He opened the envelope, gaping at the bills. He was not going to spend Darren's money, especially when it was that much. In fact, he doubted he was even going to go to any sites in Rome that cost an extreme amount of money. He didn't want to go without Darren, and if he did, he'd get lost. Darren was his tourist guide, his pamphlet that visitors used to get around, his translator, everything but his bank. He closes the envelope and shoves it in his back pocket, sliding his hands in his hoodie pockets and walking out of the hotel.

He catches a cab to a cafe for some breakfast, the same one Darren took him on the first day. After many attempts of speaking Italian to the cashier, he just settled for a cup of tea. He takes a seat near the window again, drinking his tea until he hears a throat clearing above him. He looks up, immediately rolling his eyes when he sees who it is. "Are you stalking me now or something?"

It was the same boy who fell on him yesterday. "Where's your little Italian?" he asks. Chris didn't know, but he wasn't going to tell him that. "None of your business, and I'm sure he's bigger than you," he snaps. The stranger sits across from him, folding his hands on the table. "I'm Max, by the way. Max Ehrich. I'm from California, just graduated, here for a college trip,"

Chris lets out a humorless laugh. "Wait, who told you that I cared?" he questions, sipping more of his drink. "You'll start to care,"

Chris hums, getting up from his seat and walking to the door. Max stares at the back of his jeans, noticing the thick envelope in his pocket. "Italian boy's rich, huh? That's what I have to compete with?" he yells after him, and Chris turns almost immediately, a wide smirk playing on his lips. "Trust me, it's not the money you have to compete with. Maybe hit puberty once or twice more and then come after me. Now if you excuse me, I have a date." he finishes, dumping his empty cup in the trash. Chris pushes the door open and leaves Max sitting at the table. He really didn't have a date, in fact, Darren was nowhere to be found.

* * *

><p>It only took a couple of sappy movies and romantic comedies before Chris was really starting to get worried. He was tempted to call the front desk and demand to have Darren's number. For a while he thought maybe he did something wrong last night, said something idiotic or embarrassing while with him. Maybe that grossed Darren out and made him want to stop seeing him. His stomach churned at the thought of losing someone so.. <em>Darren<em>. He came here, to Italy, to find love. Rome was full of lots of things that satisfied Chris - and Darren, who made his heart swell and his breath shake with nervousness. He traveled the world for a reason and there he was, on the front step of a hotel, waiting for him.

It may be ridiculous to think that Darren could possibly the one he's been searching for, out of the blue came a dreamy curly headed boy, but isn't that how love was? It just came looking for you, too? He wouldn't know, but if love was the definition Darren gave him, he was in whipped. He and Darren weren't even dating, nothing more than friends that gave each other simple kisses.

His head snapped up at the sound of a knock on the door, walking a little too fast and yanking it open. Darren smiles sweetly, - that damn charming grin that made Chris want to melt. "I'm sorry, whatever I did, I feel like I did something or said something that turned you off or something because you haven't talked to me all day and I wanted to drown in the pile of tissues I used during The Notebook," Chris admits.

"Oh, no, darling, you've got it all wrong. I kind of like when you're all over me." Chris' eyes widen. "Maybe next time you could possibly do it when you're sober and we'd get further, yes?"

"Did I rape you? Oh, God, I raped an Italian boy. This is _not_ what happens in the movies!" Chris covers his face, his head falling against Darren's shoulder. Darren chuckles and wraps his arms around his waist. "You didn't assault me in any way, don't worry," he reassures. Chris bites his lip, thinking about how whatever he did must've been sloppy and uncoordinated. "Whatever I did to you, I swear, I could do so much better." he promises, holding up his hands. Darren shakes his head. "I'm sure you can.. Did you use my euros well today? Did you go site seeing? You have to tell me. Meet an American friend?"

Ha. Friend.

Chris frowns, wiggling out of Darren's embrace and walking to the dresser, pulling out the envelope. He hands it to Darren. "If I spend any of your money, we better be doing that site seeing _together._ Like.. Tomorrow perhaps?" he adds cheekily.

Darren kisses his cheek and nods. "Now, what were you saying about The Notebook?"

Chris smiles at him. _Of course_ he knew what that was.


	4. Chapter 4

**To end this lovely night with Micheal songs and Darren's sexy ass fucking orgasmic voice, I present to you, Italian!Darren.**

**I'd like to thank Kat for helping me, and I'd like to also thank Chiara and Sara, who are Italian and helped me with the dialogue of Darren and such, and probably way more resourceful than Google Translate, yes? Thank you guys! It's a little rushed but, it'll get better. Oh, and the amount of alerts and stuff omfg fdkjslfg. ily.**

* * *

><p><em>Day 6 in Italy.<em>

"So you're telling me you haven't talked to your family in like a year?" Darren asks, his voice muffling through the bathroom door. Chris was laying on Darren's bed, staring up at the ceiling. Darren just got out the shower and the subject came up when Darren was telling him another story about his dad. "Yeah, but it doesn't matter. When I said I needed to get away from Clovis, I meant it," he tells him, shrugging though Darren couldn't see him. "That's insane. Don't you have that communication thing? Scoop? Sky?" he asks. Chris smiles to himself. "_Skype_, Dare, Skype," he corrects. Darren didn't reply, but a few seconds later the door creaked open and he walks out with nothing but jeans on, drying his hair with a towel. Chris glances over, eyes widening at the sight, his hand flying up to cover his eyes as he pushes himself off the bed. "Do you.. Do you want to leave? I'll go stand outside or.. _Go back to my country,_" he says, peaking through his fingers to look at him again. Drops of water slid down his toned, muscled chest - an image that made Chris' mouth water. He tried to avoid the way his hipbones formed a v, leading down into his dark jeans to God knows what. Darren chuckles, throwing his towel over to the hamper before walking towards his dresser. Chris watches, the dimples in his back and his broad shoulders beguiling his imagination. Darren pulls out a t-shirt and looks over at him. "No, I want you to keep talking, bello," he smiles slightly, his accent hanging and his voice low. Chris breathes shakily and looks away, partly because he doesn't want anything else to distract him. "I um.. What was I talking about?"

Darren tugs on his shirt and makes his way over to Chris. "Clovis." He presses a hand on his chest, leading him backwards until the back of his knees hit the bed, and he sits abruptly. Darren settles next to him, raising his eyebrows for him to continue. "R-Right, so, yeah, Clovis.. I wanted to get away from there as fast as possible and I didn't believe in love until my friend, uh," Chris pauses, eyes watching Darren's fingertips trailing down his side. "S-She told me to go find it and ever since then I've been checking off countries.. There were a-a couple guys but.."

Darren inches closer to him and cups his jaw, his breath ghosting his lips as he whispers. "You haven't found it yet?" Chris swallows, tilting his head down. "I don't.. I don't know," he mutters, and Darren wets his lips. "I hope you do. Really, really soon."

And then Darren was kissing him, slow and lingering. It was hypnotizing, the way Darren's lips moved against his. Chris brushes a hand through his hair, tilting his head to deepen the kiss, a noise of surprise originating in his throat when Darren parted his lips. He closes his eyes, lashes falling into the hollows as Darren's tongue drags past his teeth and into his mouth. He tasted like something he couldn't describe, something Chris labeled as simply _Darren_, when their tongues brushed against each other. Chris curls his fingers around the damp strands of hair, swallowing that delicious groan that tumbled into his mouth as he did. He pulls away just slightly, capturing Darren's bottom lip between his teeth and sucking it into his mouth, satisfied with the little growl he earns. Darren leans in for another kiss whispering, "_Non avevo finito con te_," but Chris holds up a hand. "_Darren_." He gives him a warning look that makes Darren slump and pout. "Shouldn't we like, talk about this before we get all.. Touchy?" Chris offers, and Darren shakes his head. "Of course not."

_Of course not_ because he does this to all the American tourists.

Chris shivers at the thought of how many men have been in that bed.

"Of course not meaning I already know how I feel. _Ti voglio, bello_." Darren tells him, and Chris groans, falling back on the mattress and covering his eyes with his arm. "As much as I love when you talk in Italian, it irritates me that I don't know what you're saying. All I got from that is, '_Of course not, I obviously want to bang you, beautiful._' And that sounds like something a man would say to a hooker in America," he complains. Darren tries not to laugh as he answers. "It means I want you."

"Everyone wants me. I'm hot." Chris shrugs and Darren chuckles and surges forward, placing a kiss on his neck as he whispers. "Well, I'm different from them."

Chris sighs. "I really hope so."

* * *

><p>"<em>Merda<em>, mamma is coming today," Darren closes his eyes and groans, leaning his head against the back of the couch. Chris shrugs, cradling himself closer to his body and watching whatever old Italian movie Darren picked. He only agreed to watching it because Darren whispered in his ear what each line meant in English, and his voice was low and thick and wonderful. He was content and could honestly care less if the President walked in.

Even if it took a day to get to Italy from Washington D.C.

"I like your mom. She looks like you. Except shorter. But she seems nice," he says and smiles a bit. Darren looks at him in confusion. "You met her? When?" he asks. Chris hums, closing his eyes. "She's the one who told me that there was something for me at the front desk."

"That's insane, my mamma speaks as much English as a _rat_!" he argues, making Chris laugh. "She had a translator, darling."

And with a simple '_oh_', Darren starts to get up, but Chris tugs him back down. "Where are you going?" he questions, and Darren leans down to give him a kiss on his forehead. "I told you my mamma is coming. We.. We have a thing for Friday nights. She likes to come cook for me. So I must clean the kitche-"

There was a knocking on the door and Chris wrinkled his forehead as Darren sighs. "That would be her," he mutters before walking to his door, Chris' gaze following him, curling under the blanket and waiting anxiously for the short, familiar woman to walk in past Darren without invitation.

"_Mamma, Chris è qui, quindi._."

"_Non importa, io preparerò la cena. Un aiuto da parte di Chris sarebbe gradito_." she answers, stalking into the kitchen. Chris pushes himself off the cushion and walks over to him, taking him by his hands and lacing their fingers together. "Okay, next time we go out, we're buying a dictionary because I can't keep up." he jokes, grinning. Darren smiles nervously, nodding. "Okay, we will do that. Right after you help prepare dinner, because that's what she just said."

"Darren, I can't cook-"

"Didn't I promise you to cook for you one day?"

"I don't even know her name.."

"Cerina." Darren backs him up into the kitchen, peppering kisses on his cheeks. Chris blushes and pushes him away at the sight of his mother, the woman's eyes connected to them. Darren clears his throat, tilting his head to whisper, "Don't worry about her. She's really not that intimidating." in Chris' ear, kissing the skin below it before moving towards Cerina with a broad smile, saying something that makes her smile right back.

Chris watches, wondering what real Italians eat for dinner. All he remembered in America was pizza, and he already noted that the pizza here was so different. Darren looked surprised when his mother pulls pasta out of his cabinet. Darren turns on his heel and walks to Chris, eyebrows furrowed. "We usually only have pasta on special occasion."

Chris heart skipped at the thought of him being that _special occasion._

* * *

><p>Darren's arms were wrapped around Chris' waist from behind, one hand above the button on his jeans and the other wrapped around his own, helping him stir the red, meaty sauce in the pot. The room filled with a <em>delicious<em> aroma, and Chris was pretty sure if he opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue, he could taste the pasta and sauce and bread. If Heaven had a scent, this is what it would smell like. Darren was singing Italian slurs quietly, something his mother had started while she was making the noodles. Their hips swayed together to the rhythm of Darren's lyrics, and Chris lays his head back against his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut as he got distracted.

He tried to ignore the fact that Darren's hand was moving lower, tried to set his brain on something totally wrong because his mom was_ right there_. He lets go of the spoon in the pot, causing it to sink. A sigh of relief flowed from his lips when Darren let go, the boy quickly grabbing the spoon and hissing at the hot sauce. Cerina makes her way over with her bowl of pasta, dumping it in the pot and taking the spoon, - shaking her head at them both - as she folds the noodles in the sauce. Chris suppresses a laugh, Darren narrowing his eyes at him. "You're lucky," he bites, and Chris nods, chuckling as he kisses him sweetly.

* * *

><p>"Tell her it was delicious." Chris bites his lower lip, staring at the woman at the door. "<em>Era deliziosa<em>," Darren grins. Cerina nods, patting Chris on his shoulder and pressing her lips to his cheek, surely to give him a lipstick outline, but he was far beyond caring. "_Grazie. Siate buoni con Darren._" she tells him, waving a finger in his face before turning and reaching up to hug her son. Darren leads her to the door and waits for her car lights to vanish, closing the door after. "What's for dessert?" Chris asks him, and Darren smirks to himself. "Well, I have some gelato."

"You mean ice cream?" Chris lays on the sofa, stretching himself out and crossing his feet. "I will pretend you did not say that." Darren waves it off, disappearing for a few moments. Ice cream _was_ gelato, right? He would never know. Darren comes back with a tub, the words, "_cioccolato_" printed on the front (Chris could only guess that that meant chocolate) and a spoon. Darren straddles his hips and opens the tub. "America eats ice cream. I have to tell you, it made me feel fat when I ate it over there. Is that why Americans are so big? Ice cream?" Darren asks, opening the container and looking down at Chris. Chris rolls his eyes and replies, "That and McDonalds and Wendys and.." he pauses, shuddering. "I don't miss it there at all,"

Darren huffs out a laugh, scooping some of the gelato onto the spoon and holding it to Chris' lips. Chris opens his mouth and lets him feed him, the creamy, sweet substance melting on his tongue. It was _amazing_. "It's so good." he comments, licking his lips. "I know," is all Darren says as he holds another spoon to his mouth, shifting a bit in his lap, causing the gelato to fall on his neck. "Fuck," he mumbles, and Chris shivers. He clutches the hem of his shirt and lifts it to clean off his neck, and Darren's eyes widen at the exposed skin. Chris notices and pulls his shirt down quickly, heat creeping up to his cheeks.

"I just remembered that I had a date with my bed," Chris babbles, struggling to get himself from under Darren's weight. But Darren stills him, pressing a hand in the middle of his chest and pushing him back. "Don't run away, _bello_, you're _very_ pretty." he sooths, tilting his head down in the crook of his neck to lick off the melted cream. "I-I really do have to go.." Chris tries. Darren laps at his pulse point, sucking the skin. Chris groans and bucks up, gasping when Darren rolls his hips down to meet him.

_That was so embarrassing._

Chris grabs Darren by his shoulders and pushes him back enough to where Darren was looking at him. Chris felt hot, his face tingling with heat. "I.. Can you call a cab for me?"

* * *

><p>Cold air was a relief. He felt claustrophobic in that taxi, he felt claustrophobic <em>under Darren<em>. It was all wrong and all too soon and it made him feel terrible to just _leave_ Darren's house. He probably wouldn't see him tomorrow, or the next day, or the next. Chris probably scared him away, probably poisoned him with his pale skin and flat stomach, or when he wimped out when Darren wanted to do something to him.

Well, fuck. He was paranoid.


	5. Chapter 5

**I'm warning you now. Smut is coming soon. Not in this one. But soon.**

_Day 7 in Italy._

Chris grips Darren's shoulders and pushes him down onto his bed before moving to sit next to him. He crosses his legs and sighs, folding his hands in his lap. "We need to talk," he starts. Darren scoffs. "Talk? Talk about what? You ran away from me. You _always_ run away from me," he says in a low, sad voice. Chris' heart aches and it's beating faster than it should be because this was only a _talk_ and he was going to just come out and say what he needed. "Darren, I'm scared. Okay, I'm scared that you're going to leave me. I can't deal with that. I'm too attached to you. I've been attached to you ever since you had that stupid guitar with your perfect face and voice and it's not fair how you can just do that to me and expect me to _approve _of it,"

"You can't help who you fall in love with." Darren explains, and Chris holds up a hand. "Don't assume I'm in love with you. Don't you _ever _assume I'm in love with you until I say it. I don't even know what love is, okay? And don't tell me that it's something you feel, Darren, because it's not. How do you know love even exist? Have you ever been in love?" Darren looks like his heart just sunk into his stomach, his tanned skin fading into pale. He nods slowly. Chris wasn't sure whether that was good or not, so he continues. "How does it feel?" he asks quietly, twisting his fingers together. Darren takes a deep breath. "Look, _bello_, I'm not going to sit here and tell you how love feels. I already told you once that you'll just know," he reassures, looking into his eyes. "I knew," he adds, but it's barely a whisper. Chris scoots closer to him and lay his head in his lap, looking up at him. They're quiet for a long time, just Darren stroking his hair and Chris keeping his eyes closed. "Darren?"

"Yes?"

"If there's.. Something between us, what are the possibilities?" he asks, opening his eyes to look up at him. Darren gives him a caring smile, twisting his hair around in his fingers. "We'll spend forever together and get married and have 2 kids, adopted, of course, named Isabella and Brett. I'll go on to furfill my dreams of being an American superstar and you will take lots of pictures of me on that fancy camera of yours," he concludes. Chris laughs, reaching up to caress his jaw. "I leave for France in 23 days, Darren," he says, leaning up to kiss him quickly. "No you don't." Darren shrugs, placing repeated kisses onto his lips as he cups that back of his neck. "Mmm, who's stopping me?" he mutters, and Darren grins. "Only the most _meraviglioso_."

Chris pulls away, gasping. "Ryan Gosling?"

Darren laughs and rolls his eyes, giving him a shove on the shoulder. "_Me_," he corrects. Chris sits up and pecks his lips, resting his thighs on either side of his lap, playing with his hair. "You're the most marvelous? What about me?" he pouts. Darren slides his hands in his back pockets, tilting his forehead against his. "You are.. Perfetto." he confirms and Chris blushes. "No. I'm not,"

"Yes you are."

"You've never even seen me."

"I see you now. You're very pretty."

Chris frowns. He didn't _feel_ perfect at all. He's never really acknowledged his looks or really cared about them, but now he wished he did. He could've changed something, but after all the years of being bullied in high school, he never really thought it would matter. He gave up on trying when he was constantly told he was horrible, so he started to believe it. So it was kind of hard when a guy like _Darren_ was telling him that he was perfect. "Are you mad at me for running out yesterday?" he asks, avoiding his gaze. "No, of course not, darling. I.. I think that it was my fault. You should really tell me if I'm being too.. _Avanti_, ah.. _Forward_. I don't want to scare you off, _bello,"_ he chuckles, leaning up to kiss him quickly, patting his ass. "Up." Darren says and Chris yelps, falling out of his lap and onto the bed. "But we were perfectly fine in that position."

"But I need coffee. You know, getting a call from the hotel isn't exactly how I planned on spending my morning." He wiggles his eyebrows, grabbing Chris by the hand and tugging him off the mattress. "Do all Italians result to physical misery to their tourists?" Chris snaps, letting Darren drag him down the hallway of the hotel. "No. Just me," he shrugs and smiles, walking towards the elevator. He pushes the button, tapping it multiple times in irritation. "Maybe you _do_ need your coffee." Chris notes, watching. Once the elevator opens, Darren's face falls and his eyes widen, turning Chris around and covering his face. "On second thought, I'll just drink water," he says, walking close beside Chris. "Well, well, well, look who it is. _Darren Criss._"

Chris turns around despite Darren's grip and looks at the man standing outside the elevator. His hair was a dirty blonde color and his voice was deep, with no hint of a foreign accent. He was taller than himself, and his jaw was tense and pronounced. He was dressed nicely, something similar to what the maids and servants that traveled around the hotel to help out confused Americans. Chris saw this one before. He asked him if he needed to be escorted somewhere with a cocky grin, and of course, thinking of Darren, he said no. Darren mutters something in Italian under his breath. "What do you want, Alex?" Darren asks, avoiding eye contact as the boy walked towards him.

_Alex._

Alex smirks, folding his arms across his chest. "Got yourself a new American, I see. You always were a fan of them," he glaces at Chris. Darren swallows thickly and Chris stares with narrow eyes. "Could you, I don't know, fuck off, maybe? That'd be pretty cool," he snaps, but Alex was unfazed. He hums, circling them. Darren watches the ground. "Do I need to tell papa?"

"Your dad can't fire me. I keep this place going. I even got to babysit you for a little bit,-" Alex laughs to himself, "-_bello_."

Darren's embrace on Chris' hand got tighter, as if he didn't want him to leave. Chris was confused about all of this, so he settled on making it stop. "I'm sure you're a lovely man, uh, sir, but can you please leave. You look like you're upsetting Darren, and I don't like that," he says calmly. Alex laughs again, humorless and dry. "You'll be the one upset in the future, kid. He's the stereotypical Italian guy. Dark hair, olive skin, beautiful accent. He loves to show you how much he '_cares_' in public, he dresses nicely. But after the pet names, the kisses, the fancy things.. He'll lead you up to his bedroom and-"

"_Non ti stavi lamentando! Stronzo!_" Darren yells, letting go of Chris, who flinched at his tone. Alex seemed to understand him, but all he did was rolls his eyes and look at Chris. "You'll see. When you wake up alone. And bare. And cold."

"_Sei un bugiardo_. You're a _liar_." Darren mumbles, shaking his head. Alex's eyes sadden before he stands up straight again. "_You're _a liar, Darren. And I can't wait until your little friend figures it out. He might fall into your trap now, but it won't last. I know you."

And with that, Alex spins on his heel and walks to the elevator. Chris lets out a breath he didn't even know he was holding. He didn't know what just happened, but all he wanted to do was _cry_. He didn't want to hear anything, but his brain just soaked everything up and drowned it with worry. Chris turns around, starting to lazily pad his feet to his hotel room, only to be stopped by Darren. "Chris."

_Darren never called Chris by his name._

"I don't want to believe him," he says. "I know it's not true. But after all this time, I know I'm not supposed to be treated like this. I _don't deserve _to be treated like this. I'm just some boy from America and you're an attractive Italian who can have anyone they wanted, and you settled for me. Is it because I'm fragile? Is it because I fall too deep? It just.. It feels like something's up." Chris admits, nodding his head slowly as he comes to realization. "No, Alex is stupid. Really, really stupid and he has no idea what is going through that big, cocky head of his. Trust me. _Fidati di me_." Darren takes his hands and leans in to give him a kiss, but Chris looks away, eyes closed as he lets go of him.

"Please, don't run away from me again."

"I'm not running."

"You didn't let me kiss you."

"Kissing me won't make anything better."

"Yes, it does. For me. Because when I kiss you, I feel something. And I like that feeling, so it makes me feel better." Darren says faintly, and for a moment, Chris' heart stopped. _Darren felt it too? _"Really?" is all Chris could choke out. "_Si, bello_."

Chris stares in his eyes, the light hazel color mixed in with _truth _looking straight back at him. He reaches back, opening the door to his hotel room. "I'll see you later," he whispers, placing a chaste kiss to Darren's lips before leaving him alone in the hall.

* * *

><p>"Hello?"<p>

Chris blinks back tears, knees up to his chest as he toys with the sheets. "Dad?"

"..Chris?"

Chris squeezes his eyes shut. "Yeah. It's me," he says almost noiselessly. The sound of his dad's voice broke his heart. He hadn't talked to him in _so_ long and now it was all coming back to him. A year. A whole year without his parents. Not one Christmas, not one phone call. Just Chris on planes, and them back in Clovis. "Chris! Where are you? Me and your mother have been worrying non-stop since you left, to where? Out of the country, I know that much. But-"

"Dad, I'm fine. I'm in.. Italy." He blushes a bit, thankful that his father wasn't actually here to see what he's been doing for past months. "Italy? That's really far, Chris, what are you doing there?"

Chris ignores the question, because it was embarrassing, and changes the subject. "How's Hannah?" he asks, thinking about his little sister. They were close, really close. And Chris always accepted her for who she was, just like she accepted him. Whenever they were together, they held hands and stayed close because she was the center of his world - well, used to be. "She misses you. Brings you up a lot, you know. She plays by herself now."

Chris couldn't stop himself from crying now. Hannah, all by herself because of him, because of his _selfishness_. His father seemed to take notice on the little sniffles coming from him. "What's wrong?" he asks, and Chris wipes at his eyes. "Nothing. Just miss you. All of you."

"When are you coming back?"

"Soon. Not sure when, but soon." Chris confirms, and his dad sighs. "Okay. You need to call more often. I'm sure your mother would love to hear your voice, along with Hannah. But you're calling really late, bud. Promise you'll call us soon? We miss you." he says. "I promise, dad. I love you."

"I love you, too, son. Don't let any Italian boys get to you. You know, they're real sweet on the looks and crazy about their showing affection thing, but-"

"I get it, dad. Trust me, I- I know." Chris looks ahead, staring at blankness as his dad said his goodbye. That was it. He wasn't going to France after this. He was going home.


End file.
